


The Chemicals Will Bring You Home Again

by Lunalove25



Category: Peter Pan (1953)
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunalove25/pseuds/Lunalove25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Neverland, Wendy is placed in an insane asylum to await her fate. She leaves her window open in the hopes that Peter Pan will take her back, but it might be too late for that. Gothic/horror short story written for my English class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chemicals Will Bring You Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for an English project and decided to post it. I was having DarlingPan feels but I decided to use the Disney version of them… I don't know why. I just did.
> 
> Note: This is in Wendy's point of view. One of the requirements was that it was in first person.

I sat gingerly on the bed. The room I was in was almost completely dark, save the small candle on the bedside table. I could scarcely see my reflection in the mirror across the room, but I could make out the outline of grimy, tangled mess of blond curls that was my hair, and the dark circles around my eyes. I hadn't slept properly in so long, but I knew I wouldn't nod off. Not tonight.

I didn't have anything to do, so I lay back. The sheets beneath me were crisp and freshly washed, and they smelled familiar. They smelled like… home. Not that I knew what that was anymore. I could hear voices passing by my locked door, and I perked up a bit. They were probably some doctors, but perhaps they could give me some information, or at least let me know when my brothers were coming. I wanted to see my brothers, I truly did, but so far they hadn't come. I didn't know why.

I listened intently – I'd grown rather good at that during my time on the island – and managed to zero in on a few of their words.

"How long until it's ready?" one of them was saying.

"I don't know," the other replied. "Soon enough, I reckon. They're anxious for the procedure to be quick."

"It's a shame. Their first born daughter, their pride and joy, and she's gone bloody mad." My eyes narrowed. Were they talking about me?

"It is." That was the second voice again. "But didn't you hear what she was saying? Pirates, mermaids, Indians. She's mental, she is. I mean, a boy that never grows up? These are the things of children's stories." The first voice murmured in agreement before I heard their footsteps retreat.

Children's stories? Mental? Me? 

I fell back onto the bed. What were they talking about? My brothers were there with me in Neverland! Why didn't the doctors believe me? Surely Michael and John had told them the truth! They had to!

Yet…. I couldn't shake the feeling that they had betrayed me. Why would they do such a thing? What did they have to gain? I looked around the little room I was in with a new determination, and realized exactly what the answer was:

Freedom.

They were willing to keep me locked in here, or worse, so they could live their lives. I wanted to cry but wiped away the tears. How could they do this to me? To their own sister? The thought made me want to vomit what little food I'd eaten since arriving, but I managed to hold it down.

I slowly stood and made my way to the window. It was open to allow fresh air in, and I stood on my tiptoes to peer out. London below me was asleep, save the few passerby on their way home. I managed to climb up so I was standing on the windowsill, most of my body outside. The wind tousled my hair gently, threw my dress up to an almost embarrassing height and blew a refreshing breeze into my face. I forced my dress back down and took in the view. My bare feet curled around the edge of the narrow platform as a new breeze rippled through, this one stronger than before, blowing hair into my face and blinding me momentarily. When I regained my vision, I saw a dark figure floating in the air in front of me.

"Peter?" I stuttered. Then I squinted and realized that it was just his shadow. I sighed – it would have been too good to be true.

"Wendy," a voice said to my right and I turned to see him. Peter Pan, just as I'd known him in Neverland, so many weeks ago. Or had it been months? It was hard to tell. Tinkerbelle was sitting on his shoulder, and for once she wasn't glaring at me; she was instead regarding me sadly in an expression that I could have confused for pity.

"Peter," I said again. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to save you." His voice sounded different than before – it sounded distant and warbled, as though he was speaking through something. "They want to hurt you, to make you grow up. I can't let them do that."

"I… I think they're going to kill me," I said, the words stirring something inside of me once I said them out loud. "You have to take me away. You have to take me back."

He smiled and my heart melted a little. It was a genuine smile, without any trickery or mischief whatsoever. "Come away with me. You don't have to grow up. I don't want you to grow up." He regarded me silently for a short moment. "But…what if you already have?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Not inside. And that's where it matters most." Tink flew around me, sprinkling pixie dust all over me. I tried to think of the very happiest thing I could.

I stepped off of the windowsill and found myself floating – no, wait, I was falling. Why was I falling? I let out a short scream and reached for Peter's hand. He would catch me. He always did.

My hand went right through his. 

"Wendy," he said sadly, "you grew up."

His words were the last thing I heard before everything went black.


End file.
